Inam Kang

ode to the rimjob

here, a circle of hell-
here, a growing envelope-
here, boundless horizon where dirt smothers-
here, blasphemy undoubtedly-
here, blasphemy of course-
here, even the queerest decline-

locked door misfortune,
new sort of chastity,
every sensibility delicate.
but trust lives in this house, too.
i know it, every follicle
around the bend-

& so i say let’s examine
like we’re supposed to,
like our good mouths
meant to do in the beginning.
with the feast right here
under our nose. with a
golden message to send out-

river milked to new oblivion,
i say familiar
because now i see it
like skin but with a different hold.
this, where a whole person made
themselves rested muscle for me,
invited me through before i even reached-

& so diligence is the name
of the night. i say look at us,
so clean in the morning
and the afternoon
and the dusk’s stretched drama-

that was the prayer
i learned to cook
after i carved away skin and skin
and skin, closets of caked dust.
i make my way through husks,
stalks, a whole earth of old crop.
here, a tongue crowned-
here, a reprieve broke-
here, i speak breath and
a door opens.


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Inam Kang is a Pakistani-born poet, student, and curator. His work can be found in Winter Tangerine, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and other journals and anthologies. He splits his time working and living between Cleveland and Southeastern Michigan.